Chapter Thirty-Six: Pleading for Forgiveness

What Li Linfu spoke of was still a secret; only a handful within the imperial court knew the full details, and among the major frontier garrisons, only the commanders directly involved were aware. These were the five great military districts he mentioned.

The Four Garrisons of Anxi and Beiting in the Yizhou region would attack from the north and west; Hexi and Longyou would strike from the east; the commander of Jiannan would be responsible for the south. If one were to draw a diagram, the armies would advance from four directions.

Among the five commanders, Hexi and Longyou possessed the greatest strength—nearly 150,000 troops combined. Anxi and Beiting contributed another 44,000, and Jiannan 20,000, bringing the total on paper to over 200,000. Yet this was merely an official figure; in reality, during last year’s campaign against Nanzhao, a vassal of Tibet, Jiannan alone fielded nearly 100,000 troops. Thus, the encirclement by the five districts would be the largest and most ambitious operation in the history of the Tang dynasty, all targeting a single foe.

Tibet—the hidden danger Li Linfu spoke of.

In truth, since the early Tianbao era, the Tang dynasty’s strategic focus had gradually shifted toward Tibet. The disappearance of powerful northern enemies and the establishment of peace in the west contributed, but the most direct reason was its proximity to Chang’an.

A glance at the map revealed that if Longyou were breached, the heartlands of Guanzhong would instantly be exposed to the enemy’s iron hoofs. This was well understood, but any distant expedition meant traversing the Qingqiang plateau, with an average altitude of three to five thousand meters. The extreme cold, lack of oxygen, and harsh climate formed an insurmountable barrier for Tang forces.

The two defeats at Dafeichuan remained an eternal scar in history. Now, with the Tang dynasty at its zenith and the Tibetans in decline, the imperial court saw an opportunity and thus devised such an enormous plan.

Li Longji had entered his twilight years. For him, civil administration had reached its peak, his romantic life was near perfection—only martial achievements remained as his sole pursuit.

The emperor prized military success on the frontiers, seeking to gain further prestige thereby. He knew precisely what to do, and even Yang Guozhong, who nominally commanded Jiannan from the capital, was no exception.

Li Linfu’s eagerness likely concealed his own motives as well. Li Longji watched him with a placid expression, trying to discern whether, from that mouth that could turn death into life, honey or poison would flow.

“I am guilty and will remove my own cap, awaiting judgment.”

Li Linfu’s actions were once again unexpected. He untied the cord beneath his chin, took off his five-beam cap, held it in one hand, then lifted his robe and knelt on the ground.

This time, Li Longji did not hasten to have him helped up. Since he was still unclear about the matter at hand, he preferred not to show his attitude prematurely. At this moment, Gao Lishi’s role became apparent as he stepped forward, bent down, and whispered into Li Linfu’s ear.

“If the Prime Minister has something to say, do so plainly. The emperor has been out for some time—has not touched wine or eaten a grain of rice. Should anything happen, how could that be endured?”

“I am ashamed. I failed to detect treachery, causing unrest at the frontier, and flames of war to spread. I hereby ask for Your Majesty’s forgiveness.”

Li Longji pondered for a moment and quickly guessed: “Something happened in Shuofang?”

“Your Majesty is wise. Zhang Wei, acting commander of Shuofang, has reported that the deputy commander, Prince Li Xianzhong, led his forces to plunder the treasury and fled north, disappearing into the northern desert—their whereabouts unknown.”

Li Linfu handed the document he held to Gao Lishi, who dared not delay and promptly gave it to Li Longji, noticing that the emperor’s fingers trembled slightly with rage.

“I have not treated him poorly. Why would he do such a thing? Gonü, what do you say?”

“I dare not speculate. Everything is written in the report. Please, Your Majesty, review it.”

Li Longji snapped open the document, his shock growing with every line. His face was aflame with anger, his beard quivering as he finished reading. He threw the document to the floor and rose from his couch, pacing to stand before Li Linfu, his voice urgent and harsh.

“If he had grievances, he could have spoken to me. To leave without a word—am I so unreasonable? An Lushan is equally ignorant! And you—such a serious matter happened in March, and you dared to withhold it until now. What was your intent?”

“All my fault, Your Majesty. When I received the news, I thought perhaps there was some misunderstanding. I sent a messenger with letters seeking Li Xianzhong, hoping to win him back…”

Li Linfu dared not raise his head, only begged forgiveness.

“What is there to win back? Li Xianzhong chose to forsake his future. Tens of thousands from the Tongluo tribe followed him down the path of no return. Amnesty is granted but once; it was theirs to treasure. I am not only merciful but also thunderous—else how could I claim the title ‘Heavenly Khagan’? Prepare the edict.”

Li Longji cut him off without ceremony and turned to Gao Lishi, waving his hand in the air.

Gao Lishi hastily summoned a waiting scholar, who unrolled paper and ink at the writing desk nearby.

“Li Xianzhong has betrayed imperial grace—his crime is unforgivable. Order the frontier garrisons, especially those under An Lushan, to join forces in pursuit. He must be driven out of the northern desert. Also, contact the Khagan of the Uyghurs—ask them to send troops to assist. Upon success, generous rewards will follow.”

There was no way out now. The sudden thunderous wrath left Li Linfu trembling, and even Gao Xianzhi, uninvolved as he was, felt the weight and could not escape it. Both stood uneasy, at a loss.

“As for you,” Li Longji looked at Li Linfu, “though you merely held the post in name, you are nonetheless responsible. Relinquish your command of Shuofang.”

“That is precisely my intention, Your Majesty. Forgive me, but I must speak.” Facing the emperor’s anger, Li Linfu spoke firmly, “Li Xianzhong’s resentment arose from discord with Prince of Xiping. The most urgent matter is the choice of the new commander—another mistake cannot be made.”

“Go on,” Li Longji’s expression eased slightly, though his face remained taut. His mood had already soured, and two vexing matters provided the perfect occasion for an outburst—not entirely directed at the other.

“To reassure Prince An, I request that An Sishun be appointed as commander of Shuofang. First, he has held the post before, sparing much trouble. Second, he is a cousin of the prince; with him presiding, the frontier generals will not harbor further animosity.”

The reasoning was sound. Li Longji’s anger had been released and his mood gradually calmed. Following this line of thought, a simple logic emerged.

An Sishun was indeed the ideal candidate for Shuofang. With his departure, the commander’s seat in Hexi would become vacant, making it natural for last year’s proposal—Gao Xianzhi’s appointment—to proceed.

But would it be so simple?

Forty years on the throne had taught Li Longji never to judge by appearances. Reflecting on Li Linfu’s conduct today, a trace of suspicion arose in his heart.

That old fox had played a trick—“deceiving the heavens and crossing the sea.”